Jersey Girls
by Squidward Cullen
Summary: Elizabeth and Jackie are two sisters feeling the crunch of summer boredom. When two eligible bachelors move into the neighborhood, can they survive the frenzy? And can Elizabeth survive the impossible Adam Darcy?
1. Chapter 1: Trash Gets Picked Up

Okay, um, I'm not too good at introductions, but here goes. I've been working on this story for a pretty long time; I posted it once before, but I got some bad reviews and was disheartened and took it down and revised it meticulously until it was (in my view) good enough to post again. I'm a bit anal like that with my writing. I'm sorry if it bears resemblance to other modernized P&Ps, but, you know, that's kind of hard _not_ to do. Honestly, the only one I've ever read is _Shine_, and I know this will be nowhere near that. But even so, I think this is pretty good, and I hope it's worth your time.

A few notes: This story definitely deserves its "T" rating. Within its course, there will be plenty of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Okay, not so much, but it's a pretty liberal PG-13. I've been watching _The OC_ too much lately, and it shows.

Q: What's the difference between a Jersey girl and trash?

A: Trash gets picked up.

(the preceeding was a joke)

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

"New Jersey? New effing Jersey?" Caroline shrieked. I winced at her tone of voice. "Charlie, have you cracked?" I wasn't very happy about my friend's decision to buy a new house in Meryton, New Jersey either, but I decided not to be nearly as vocal about it as his sister.

"No, I haven't cracked," Charlie replied. "I just want to get away from all this stuffy New York society. I want to get back to reality, and nothing's more real than the Garden State, right? Right? Besides, I went there to check out the house last week; it's lovely!"

Charlie was special, to say the least. He had been my best friend since high school, and I was pretty sure he had been a space case since long before then. Whenever he was in search of something, he threw himself at the cause, often ignoring the feelings of others, as well as common sense, in pursuit of his dreams. While in some circles this was a plus and was known as "devotion", in this case it was known as "insanity".

"If you really want to get away, let's go to Nantucket or Colorado or something," Caroline continued. "You know, someplace peaceful, yet refined enough for our tastes. But New Jersey? Charlie, you're being completely ridiculous! And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Adam agrees with me, don't you?"

"Adam, is that true?"

I suddenly snapped out of my musings. "Well, I…" I stammered, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights. I hated it when Caroline and Charlie put me on the spot, which probably actually encouraged them. I cleared my throat and fixed my eyes on a framed photograph on the other side of the room. "New Jersey is certainly…different. But it's your life, your money. Do what you want. I suppose we'll have to come with you to keep you from doing anything seriously stupid."

Caroline stared at me incredulously, her mouth hanging open like an animal gasping for its last breaths. "Adam Darcy, I cannot believe you! How can you allow him to go through with this? It's…it's disgraceful! It's embarrassing! It's—"

"Well gosh, Caroline," Charlie retorted, looking obviously pissed (which was definitely not a very Charlie thing to be.) "Nobody said you had to come!"

"What—of course I'm coming with you! After all, it won't be entirely uncultured. Adam's going to be there, and Jennifer and Phil are coming down too. You can't leave me in the city all by myself this summer!"

I blanched at the thought. I could just picture it: Caroline wandering around the house in little more than glorified underwear, hitting on me every waking moment; Charlie's other sister Jennifer and her insanely boring husband Phil cackling with each other and Caroline over white wine and the E! channel; and Charlie himself, waking up around three in the afternoon and spending every single night at clubs dancing like a monkey on crack and attracting every girl who crosses his path with his patented Bingley Perma-Grin™ while I drink rum and Coke in a corner wishing I was anywhere but wherever I was. I whispered, "Oh, please God, no," but apparently the Man Upstairs didn't hear me.

"So what do you think, Adam honey?" Caroline cooed, putting her arm around my shoulder in an eerily affectionate/possessive way. "We'll make the best of it, right?"

I nodded weakly and smiled at her, but the only thing I could think was, _Somebody please shoot me._

* * *

"Look at them. They're acting like rabid monkeys," my sister Sharon announced. Sharon, my older sister Jackie, and I were sitting on the couch observing yet another spat between Gabrielle and Kat, the two youngest in our family of five girls. Today they were fighting over a pink Juicy Couture miniskirt. Since they couldn't settle their differences on their own, they turned to our mother for guidance. Not that she was any help.

"But Mo-ther!" Gabby screamed, pointing accusingly at Kat. "Look at her thighs! She shouldn't be wearing miniskirts at all!"

"Oh, that is so not true!" Kat shouted back. "Besides, you've already got plenty of designer clothes. You have no right to take my skirt, you fat cow!"

"GIRLS," our mother screeched, "SHUT UP!" Gabby and Kat immediately froze, and the skirt dropped to the floor. "Now, what's the problem?"

They immediately started screaming simultaneously, trying to tell two different stories. They were so loud that mom looked like she was about to cry. Jackie and I struggled to stifle our giggles, while Sharon wore her usual bored/pained expression.

"Jackie, Lizzy, help me!" mom yelped.

Just as Jackie was about to open her mouth, our dad burst in through the front door.

"Good evening, ladies!" he bellowed, as all five of us girls rushed to him (Kat and Gabby reaching him first, where they immediately began "explaining" the miniskirt debacle.) Sharon waved at him halfheartedly, while Jackie and I stood nonchalantly, waiting for our dear old dad to shrug off the two loonies clinging to his arms. It took about thirty seconds, and ended with Kat asking, "So, who gets to wear the skirt?" to which dad replied, "It doesn't matter; you'll both end up looking like whores anyway," kissed Jackie and I on the cheeks, and hung his jacket up in the closet.

"Daddy, that was slightly uncalled for," Jackie scolded, taking his briefcase and placing it on its respective table in the hallway.

"Oh, I know," he replied, "but at least it gives them something to think about." I chuckled and returned to my spot on the couch, where I had been reading _Anna Karenina_. I was interrupted, however, by my father turning on the television, which was permanently stuck on CNN. Anderson Cooper was blabbing on about some foot-in-mouth comment some senator made, which bored the crap out of me.

"What do you think of this, Lizzy?" my dad asked, taking off his shoes.

"I think I'd rather watch The Simpsons. Can you change the channel?"

"Elizabeth!" my mother called from the kitchen, "You should really take interest! You're never going to land a job—or a man—if you don't become informed on current affairs!"

"Actually my dear," my dad announced, "I think I'd rather watch The Simpsons too." We didn't look behind us, but I was sure if I did I would see smoke coming out of my mother's ears.

I absolutely hated when my mother brought up the 'M' word: men. She was incredibly old-fashioned in that she believed that if I wasn't at least beginning the hunt for a man to settle down with at my ripe old age of twenty-one, I would be destined to end up a lonely, obese secretary and an embarrassment to the family. She was even harder on twenty-three-year old Jackie; even though our father loved us for who we were, our mother was convinced that there was something fundamentally wrong with Jackie and me. Personally (or not so personally, as I was certainly not the only one who thought this), I thought my mother was a total wacko, and often toyed with the idea that she was really a time traveler from the 19th century, come to implant ideas of social climbing and corsets into the minds of the youth of New Jersey. Luckily, we hadn't reached the corset subject…yet.

* * *

"I heard someone finally bought that house on Netherfield Grove," my mother announced over the Chinese take-out boxes that served as our usual Wednesday night meal. "Some nutso rich kid from New York wants to make it a summer home."

Netherfield Grove was the most expensive strip of real estate in the entire Meryton area (much more so than our family's painfully bourgeois neighborhood of Longbourn). All of the houses on it were super humongous and cost upwards of a million dollars. The house in question had been vacant for several months since its owner was arrested for tax fraud. The fact that someone was considering it as a _summer home_ was altogether hilarious; obviously whoever this was needed to be told that suburban residences were generally full-time affairs, no matter how expensive they were. But…I had to give props to eccentricity.

I let out a laugh so hard that I nearly choked on my sweet and sour chicken. My family ignored my coughing spell and continued with the conversation.

"Ooh," Gabby squealed, "I hope he's hot! And not too old, so then he would date me and buy me lots of bling and designer clothes!"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Gabby," she said, picking at her tofu stir-fry, "internal monologue means keep it inside your head because nobody else wants to hear it."

"Shut up!" Gabby shouted, throwing Sharon a death glare. "At least I have some imagination!"

"Ooh, I'm so jealous," Sharon replied sarcastically. "Besides, I highly doubt that you have any imagination at all, let alone some."

"Shut it, you two," mom announced, whereupon Sharon and Gabby immediately stared down at their boxes of food. "Anyway, his name is Charles Bingley, and he's bringing quite a bunch of people with him for the summer."

"I hope he brings lots of guys," Kat mused. "Then we can all have boyfriends."

"Christ," I interjected, resting my napkin on the table, "you and Gabby really do have one-track minds."

"We're not one-track," Gabby replied indignantly. "We think about plenty of other things. Like clothes, and _One Tree Hill_, and getting our driver's licenses."

"Ooh, what a fabulous life you lead," Sharon grumbled.

"Girls," my mother screeched (she was _really_ good at that.) "Just—stop it! Can't we have a single meal together as a family without you girls yelling and fighting!"

"No," Sharon answered for us. Gabrielle squinted her eyes at her and stood up in a huff. She let out an angry, eardrum-bursting scream and stormed off to her room. Kat immediately followed, calling out, "Gabby, wait! Talk to me!"

We sat in silence for five whole minutes, before my dad finally restarted conversation. "So, Lizzy," he said, tapping his chopsticks together, "I don't think I've gotten a chance to ask you yet: how's school? Anything much changed since the last time we saw you?"

"They're building a new wing to one of the dorms; a professor got fired for hitting on a student…the usual."

"Well that's good," he said. "And how about you, Jacqueline? Glad to have the summer off? One of the few perks of being a teacher, I suppose."

"Yes," she answered simply. "It gives me more time to spend with my sisters. And teaching kindergarten, it's not like I have to spend the whole summer mapping out a curriculum, so that's good."

"Oh, my babies!" our mom cried dramatically. "You've been here three days already and it seems like we haven't seen you at all! This summer is just going to _fly_ by!"

My mother, Drama Queen Extraordinaire.

From that point, the rest of the conversation went downhill. Sharon tried to sound intelligent by quoting _Fight Club_, Jackie noticed that some of her pork was undercooked, and mom mentioned buying new clothes for Gabrielle. I offered to clear the table, mostly for the sake of my own sanity.

When I was done throwing take-out boxes in the trash, I found myself completely bored. For me, boredom was the most painful feeling in the world. I was one of those people who, if left with nothing to do, would sink into a deep, spiraling hole of depression. Extreme? Yes, but true.

In times like these, the only thing that could calm my mind was television. I honestly didn't know why the tube had such an effect on me, but ever since I was young it was one of the only things that could placate me. Maybe it was the radiation, slowly frying my brain and eventually turning me into a mindless boob.

I flicked on the TV in my room: it was set on MTV, where some anorexic girls in bikinis were running around for no apparent reason. I wondered if maybe they were going to do anything interesting, like eat sushi off a naked fat man, but all they did was scamper around some more. I could have sworn that Pimp My Ride was supposed to be on right now.

Click. Click. Click. I was also a compulsive channel-changer. I spoke to myself as I quickly went through all 99 channels. "Lost? No. Televangelists? No. Emeril? No." I sighed loudly and plopped on my bed. "Grrrr, when will it be tomorrow already so I can watch my O.C. reruns?"

It was turning out to be a terribly dull summer. After another year of college that I had just ended, I didn't know what to do with my life; it was like I was just driving around the Parkway without knowing where I wanted to go, and if I wasn't careful I was going to end up shit-faced and broke in Hoboken…or at the very least, stuck in the world of only-slightly-higher-than-minimum-wage jobs like my best friend Charlotte Wong. At the moment, she was an assistant manager at a local Whole Foods, where I had spent a good amount of time in the past two weeks eating vegan muffins and waiting for my best friend in the universe to get off work so we could go to the $1.50 movie theater.

"Knock knock," a voice called from the other side of the door.

"Go away!" I yelled back, figuring I was talking to my mother or Gabby.

"Well, Duckie, that's a nice way to treat the person you share a room with. Are you watching TV?" I smiled weakly at her nickname for me. She had been calling me Duckie ever since she was twelve and saw Pretty in Pink for the first time, and had decided that I was going to be a female version of the boy Andi should have ended up with. Maybe it was true; I hadn't seen _Pretty in Pink _in several years, so I didn't remember.

"Okay, okay," I huffed, "come on in, Jackie." I hurriedly clicked the "power" button on the remote control, turning the television off. I lay back on my bed and stared up at the small picture on the wall, clipped from an article in Alternative Press, of my favorite band Mêlée.

"Are you alright?" Jackie asked, mildly interested.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. I'm just really freaking bored."

"Well _that's_ not good." Jackie sat down on her bed and picked up the knitting that had been lying on her pillow. "So, do something. Get a job, or a boyfriend, or take some classes at the community college."

"No good," I breathed, scratching an itch on my arm. "Too late to register."

"So, what about a job?"

"I put in applications for the library and Jo-Ann Fabrics, but neither of them have called me back yet."

"God, Lizzy," Jackie laughed, "you've got an excuse for everything, don't you?"

"Probably. But what about you, Jackie? Why don't you practice what you preach?"

She smiled at me with one of those slightly-superior-but-not-snobby Jackie-type smiles that always alerted me that I had just asked a really stupid question. "Well, I'm not bored. I'm taking it easy. And I thought you were too."

"I am, but you know how things get. Three years at the University of Baltimore have completely fried my brain, and now, being here…" I sighed. "I'm a restless soul; I can't stand being stuck somewhere, even if that somewhere is home."

"You didn't have to come back here," Jackie responded. "You know that."

"If it weren't for you and dad, I wouldn't have come back. I'm still not used to not seeing my sister for six months. And our poor father: if it weren't for us, you know, he would probably go crazy. I would too, if I were the only man in the house." Jackie giggled and held up her knit scarf.

"It's not very good, is it?" she asked.

"Ugh, don't be so modest," I said. "It'll be perfect for winter. Or…you could sell it to a lame-brained scenester and make a lot of money."

"Now there's an idea." She fell back on her bed with a contented sigh. "So, changing the subject…you say you want to do something. What did you have in mind?"

I laughed. "Your guess is as good as mine."

* * *

Review because it's nice! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but not arbitrary "This is the worst story I've ever read!" comments. Those are just bad and don't help me in the least as a writer. 


	2. Chapter 2: We Do It In Style

w00t, it's chapter 2! I won't bore you with commentary, so let's just keep rolling!

* * *

"Come on Adam, we're going out." 

"How about no?" I was perfectly happy to accept lying on the sofa and staring at the television as a way to spend a Friday night. It had taken a few days to get settled in to the new house, but now Charlie and Caroline (with the "help" of Jennifer and Phil) were ready to revert back to their party animal lives. "I like where I am, thank you very much."

"No you don't," Caroline insisted, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me up. Fortunately, I weighed about fifty pounds more than she did, and she had no upper body strength, so I didn't move an inch. "We are _not_ going clubbing without you. And if you don't go, I don't go, and Charlie doesn't go, and then we'll all be miserable and it'll be all your fault." I stared up at her and tilted my head to the side.

"And yet…I am unmoved." Caroline dropped my hand in a huff and placed her hands on her hips.

"Char-leeeeeeeeeeee!" she screamed, as my best friend came waltzing through the living room, wrestling with the buttons on the Versace shirt Caroline had bought him for his birthday last month. She immediately rushed over to him and grabbed his shoulders. "Adam doesn't want to go out!" she whined. "Do something!"

"Honestly, Adam," Charlie said nonchalantly, "it'll be fun." He paused. "You do know what fun is, right?"

"Yes, _Charles_, I know what fun is," I answered, sitting up slowly. "I just don't consider getting drunk with empty-headed Jersey Girls to be my idea of a good time." And it was true. Being here was awkward enough without having to socialize. Why had I agreed to come here with Charlie in the first place?

_Because your sister's at camp and you have absolutely nothing better to do, and you have a massive guilt complex and can't say no to Charlie Bingley or his sister, no matter how much of a slut she is._

Yes, that was pretty much it.

"Why won't you go out with us? What have we done?" Caroline cried melodramatically; she knew just how to guilt-trip me. "Was it because of that time when I tried to fix you up with Andrea St-Dubois? I thought I was trying to help you!" She was swooning around the room the way Joan Crawford or Elizabeth Taylor could only dream of. And Charlie! The only thing he could do was stand by the fireplace and try not to laugh. "Or did I—"

"Okay, okay," I groaned, standing up from my spot on the sofa, "I'll go. Just please stop doing that…whatever it is you're doing."

Caroline wrapped her arms around me in a half-hug-half-tackle and jumped up and down. "Yay!" she squealed. _For someone who thinks herself to be height of sophistication she certainly acts like a five-year old often enough_, I mused.

"Alright, Adam," Charlie announced, whacking me on the back, "I knew you'd come around. It'll be great, I promise. And if you don't piss and moan too much, Caroline and I might try to find you a girl."

I shrugged Caroline off of me and straightened out my shirt. "That's nice of you two, but I'll pass on that offer." Charlie looked crestfallen, but Caroline only beamed eerily at me. I cleared my throat and scanned over my outfit: a snug-fitting Muse concert t-shirt, faded Diesel jeans my sister bought me for Christmas last year, and blue socks.

"Yes, your clothes are fine," Charlie announced preemptively, "but you might want to do something about that." He gestured towards my hair, which, admittedly, was a total mess. I ran a hand through it and shrugged, trying to convey the message that I really didn't care how my hair looked; it wasn't like I was going out to impress anyone. And besides, I figured if I were to meet a girl, she should accept me for how I am, bed head and all.

But even so, I heeded Charlie's advice and went to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and ran my hands over my wet hair, smoothing it down. When I returned to the living room, Charlie still had a disapproving look on his face.

"Still no," he said, and glanced at his watch. "I'll give you fifteen minutes; I've gotta make a booze run for Phil."

"Ah, yes," I replied, thinking fondly of Charlie's alcoholic thirty-something brother-in-law who was passed out in the guest room upstairs, while his wife, Charlie's sister Jennifer, was having another episode of melodramatic depression, "Phil. Well, don't let me keep you waiting." I gave a small wave and dashed up the stairs, where I filled the bathroom sink up with cold water and dunked my head in. I could see the bubbles escaping from my mouth and rising up to the surface.

_There has to be more to life than this_, my mind screamed, as I pulled my face out of the water. I smoothed my wet hair back and stared at myself in the mirror. _Holy shit, I look like a total bum. Maybe I should hurry up and get a girlfriend, so I'll at least have someone to tell me what to wear._

"Aaaaa-dam!" I heard Caroline call from the upstairs hallway.

"I'm not here," I whispered to myself, hoping that if I repeated it enough times I would disappear. In all honesty, Caroline Bingley frightened me. She was overly aggressive, sexual, catty, and had the worst fashion sense of any woman I had ever met. Unfortunately, since the day I was introduced to her (back in ninth grade when Charlie and I first became friends), she had been all over me, trying unsuccessfully to get me to have sex with her. As it was, I was probably the only virgin over the age of seventeen on the Upper East Side; I blamed it on my strict upbringing, but the truth was that when it came to women, I was as picky as they came. No matter how many models and heiresses Caroline and Charlie paraded in front of me, I always had an excuse: not smart enough, too skinny, didn't know who Muse was, too Xanax-addicted, too slutty…the list went on. Rich girls had too many problems, but they were the only kind of girls I had ever been around, so about a year ago I had resigned myself to the fact that I would probably end up as one of two things: a virgin, dead in a gutter at a young age; or, in a state of married mediocrity with my step-cousin Melanie DeBourgh, permanently attached to her asthmatic inhaler. Either way, misery was sure to be mine. I supposed that I deserved it, though.

"Adam, you son of a bitch! Are you ready or what? Charlie's in the driveway!"

I banged my head against the mirror and sighed heavily. This was turning out to be a very long summer.

* * *

I pulled hurriedly into the last space in the parking lot in front of the Assembly Room, Meryton's favorite nightclub. Gabby tossed her cigarette butt out the window as I put my maroon 1995 Toyota Corolla in park and turned off the ignition. I really didn't want to go out tonight, as I was coming down with summer flu. But _somehow_ I had let my sisters shove some aspirin down my throat (which actually didn't help in the least) and talk me into going.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Kat whined, biting her thumbnail. "I mean, we don't even have fake IDs or anything." The Assembly Room was an 18-and-up club, but sometimes they had all ages nights (not that they ever bothered to announce them in the Meryton Star-Gazette; I was hoping tonight would be one of those nights, and that I wouldn't have to do anything illegal.)

"Don't worry," Gabby answered quickly, climbing out of the car. "If we're lucky, tonight'll be an all-ages night; if not, Lizzy and Jackie know a lot of the people who work here, so they'll get us in, right?"

Jackie smiled at Gabby warily. "Of course; you're our sisters."

"Yeah," I added, quickly checking my reflection in the rearview mirror, "just don't try to buy any alcohol or I'll kick your ass." Gabby laughed like a sick hyena (her natural state). "I'm serious. I will not hesitate to put you in a world of hurt."

"Whatever, Lizzy," Kat announced, slamming the door. Sharon and Gabby filed out of the other side and Sharon slammed the door. I locked the car up and we headed inside.

"This is so retarded," Sharon grumbled as we made our way across the parking lot. "I fail to see the appeal of a bunch of sweaty yuppies rubbing up against each other and hawking back overpriced booze."

"You wouldn't," Gabby snapped back. "You spend all of your time in hippie coffee shops reading crappy poetry to burn-outs who are so doped up they fail to see the appeal of anything!"

"Gabby, Sharon, shut up!" I quipped. "Just stop fighting and let's enjoy ourselves, okay?" We all put on our calm faces and approached the door to the club. I recognized the very tall bouncer at the door as none other than my old high school friend Denny.

"Denny Jones, you sexy beast, how _are_ you?" I called dramatically. He turned around, and Gabby and Kat giggled. They had had the hugest crushes on him since before they knew what a crush was.

"Elizabeth Bennet! Oh god, you brought the whole clan!" He moved towards Gabby so that his face was about three inches from hers. "Well now, Gabby, you're about fifteen now, aren't you?" Gabby eyed him skeptically. "What're you trying to pull, Duckie?" he asked me. _Busted._

"Damn," I mumbled, "I was hoping tonight was an all-ages night." He smiled at me and patted me on the back.

"Well, it's not, but, uh," he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I won't tell if you won't. Just don't let them buy any alcohol or you'll all be really sorry."

"Thank you!" I shouted, wrapping him in a big bear hug. "We won't be any trouble, I promise!" He hurriedly peeled my arms from around his body and moved to the side to let us through the door.

Inside, the nightclub was a pulsating mass of coke-addicted strippers on their day off, scene whores, and bored teenagers like my sisters and me. The bass in the music was so heavy, I could hardly tell it was Le Tigre. _Great,_ I thought, _I haven't even been inside for ten seconds and already I have a headache. I need alcohol._

Being the horrible, awful person I was, I didn't even stick around to find out what my sisters were going to do: I made a beeline for the bar, where I promptly ordered my favorite drink, a Red Bull and vodka. I hardly ever drank, but when I did, it was either white wine or the aforementioned cocktail. Now, separately, they were two of the most disgusting substances ever consumed by humankind, but together they were just what I needed: increased energy and impaired judgment.

I slid a ten-dollar bill next to the bartender's hand, and gulped back my volatile cocktail. It burned as it went down, but that was okay. I immediately felt buzzed and ready to take on the whole world. I shook my head and finished off the last dregs of the drink as my best friend Charlotte Wong appeared behind me, totally smashed.

"Duckie dah-ling, it's so nice to see you! I had no idea you were going to be here!"

"Yes you did," I replied as she scrambled into a barstool next to me. "I invited you this morning. You're just too hammered to remember."

"Holy crap, Duckie," she snorted, motioning to the bartender, who shook his head and made a cutting gesture with his hands (he must have known that she'd already had too much), "lighten up. It's Friday night, you know. It's okay to get a liiiiiiiittle tipsy."

"Char, you're more than a little tipsy. You've flat-out lost it. And you know you do this every weekend; eventually you're just going to pickle your liver." But she wasn't listening to me at all. She had her head on the bar and was mumbling unimportant things.

"You know, I saw that new guy in town, Charles Bingley or whatever-his-name-is just a few minutes ago," she babbled, grabbing my hand. "He's hot—absolutely dynamite! I introduced myself, but…I seem to have lost him." She giggled loudly and sighed. "Duckie darling, I'm sorry if I throw up on you. I know I'm a vuuuuuury bad drunk." Even though Charlotte was my best friend, just listening to her drunken banter brought on a killer migraine: the C-clamp-around-the-head feeling, the nausea, the shaky arms and legs…maybe the Red Bull and vodka wasn't such a good idea.

"I'm sorry Char," I announced, patting her on the back and standing up abruptly, "I'm gonna leave you for a minute; I've gotta get some fresh air." She grunted at me in acknowledgement, and I rushed off toward the back patio, hands gripped to my temples.

Once outside, I took a deep, swallowing breath. The New Jersey summer air was hot and humid, and it only made me feel worse. All I wanted at that moment was to drive down to the ocean and jump in and get stung by jellyfish until it hurt so bad I forgot about my headache. But at the moment, that wasn't really an option.

I slumped over the railing that separated the patio from the rest of the street, trying unsuccessfully to take in some good air, and looked around: there weren't really many people on the patio besides the smokers and people gabbing on their cell phones. About three feet to my right stood a young man in a dark blue blazer staring off into space (or possibly at the Taco Bell across the street—not that I blamed him: under any other conditions, I would be staring wide-eyed and open mouthed at the ground beef Mecca too.) He was actually quite gorgeous: a bit on the lanky side, with shaggy brown hair. Honestly, I couldn't stop staring at him. I think he noticed after about ten seconds, because he suddenly fixed his eyes on me. I quickly snapped my gaze back forward, trying to be coy and flirtatious, and…

_Rrrrretch_ Before I even knew what was happening, I threw up over the railing and into the bushes. I slumped down to my knees and sighed loudly. My head hurt so bad, even worse than before because now it felt like invisible concrete walls were closing in on my whole body.

Naturally, Mr. Gorgeous looked at me disgustedly and walked off.

_Oh, perfect first impression_, I thought, curling up in a ball on the ground. _He probably thinks I'm some sloppy drunk…wait a minute—why do I care?_ I sat there for about ten minutes, lost in my own thoughts, until I heard my angel-of-a-sister Jacqueline's voice calling out to me like a beacon of hope and light (Cheesy? Most definitely. But I was dying; I had no time to be original.)

"Lizzy," she was chanting, her melodious voice bringing me back to full consciousness. "Oh, thank God you're okay. Did you throw up?" I nodded weakly as she picked me up in her arms. Through my blurred vision I saw a blonde-haired guy behind her looking quite alarmed.

"I rolfed everywhere," I replied faintly. "Take me to the doctor tomorrow?" It wasn't so much a request as a demand, but I think Jackie understood.

"Of _course_ I will. Now," she said, helping me to my feet, "let's get you some water. No more vodka and Red Bull for you, Missy." She turned to the shocked-looking man behind her. "Charlie, I'm sorry, but can you help me get Lizzy into a chair?" She grabbed my right arm, he grabbed my left arm, and they pulled me into a plastic patio chair. "Now don't move, okay? I'll get you a bottle of water; Charlie, can you stay with her for a minute? I'll be right back!" Jackie dashed off inside the club, leaving me alone with this guy I had never met before in my life. He helped himself into a chair across from me and offered his hand for me to shake.

"Hi, I'm Charlie Bingley," he announced, trying on his best friendly grin. I stared weakly at his extended hand, and he retracted it. "Right. Sorry; guess you're not really feeling up to shaking hands." I nodded in agreement and he suddenly began looking really serious, as if he was thinking, _What__ would be appropriate to say to a girl who could vomit all over you at any time?_

"I'm, um, new in town," he finally said. "I just bought a house in Netherfield Grove."

"Oh, so _you're_ the famous Charles Bingley," I answered absentmindedly, staring at my hand. I really needed to push back my cuticles. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, nothing about _you_ personally, but, you know, about you being here. You're from the City, right?"

"Yeah. But I'm really taking a liking to New Jersey."  
"For serious?" I asked, a little shocked. "That's pretty different. Most posh New Yorkers don't want anything to do with Jersey. And all the kids from here can't wait to get out. Kinda strange, huh?"

"How can you tell I'm 'posh'?" he queried, chuckling.

"Pretty easy. All the houses in Netherfield Grove are hella expensive, so you've gotta be pretty posh to buy one of them."

"Oh." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm sorry you feel so lousy," he said, trying desperately to avoid the awkward silence that would have eventually overcome the conversation. "I was just sitting at the bar introducing myself to your sister, when a friend of mine came in talking about some girl with pink hair that just yakked over the railing. I guess Jackie knew it was you, because she immediately rushed out."

"Yeah, well…there aren't too many people here in Meryton with pink hair," I said. "But I'm glad Jackie found me. If I had left it up to my other sisters, they wouldn't have found me until tomorrow morning. That's what I love about Jackie." Charlie nodded.

"It's kinda funny: I mean, I've only known her for about five minutes, and I already really like her. It's like she draws you in. She's like nobody I've ever met." He stopped abruptly. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all my mushy romantic ramblings."

"Nah, it's alright." Suddenly, I noticed Mr. Gorgeous, the man who saw me throw up, run up to Charlie and grab him by the shoulders.

"Charlie, you've gotta help me," he said, out of breath. "Your damn sister's trying to stick her tongue down my throat again." He glanced quickly at me and then turned back to Charlie. "What should I do?"

"Well maybe if she saw you with another girl she'd back off." He said it like he honestly thought it was the best idea in the history of mankind.

"Are you shitting me?"

"No. Why would I do a thing like that?" He looked from the guy to me, and back to him, and then back to me. "How about her?" He gestured at me. "Adam, this is Elizabeth, Elizabeth, this is my friend Adam Darcy."

"Nice to meet you," Adam Darcy answered tartly, before turning to Charlie and lowering his voice. "Charlie, have you been eating paste? I saw her throw up just a few minutes ago; I bet she's piss-drunk!"

"Hello! I can hear you!" I shouted to him, seriously pissed off. "I'm right here!"  
"Good," replied Adam flatly, completely unaffected. "Then I don't have to repeat myself." He sighed loudly and stormed off.

Fortunately, Charlie was nicer about it.

"Hey, don't mind him," he said, leaning back in his chair. "He's just in a bad mood. We had to drag him out of a vegetative state on the couch watching Animal Planet just to get him to come out here tonight." I laughed…mostly because I'd been doing the same thing all week.

Just as I was about to say something, Jackie returned with two bottles of water, smiling like a giddy schoolgirl.

"Here Duckie," she said cheerfully, opening one bottle and handing it to me, "drink this." She handed the other bottle to Charlie, who took it from her hand in one of those slow-mo romantic moments where the little hearts appear all over the place and they lock eyes and…anyway, it made me want to throw up all over again. But once he had finally taken the bottle of water from Jackie, she pulled up a chair and sat down, staring at the both of us.

"So," she began, "did you and Charlie find anything to talk about?"

"Absolutely," Charlie responded quickly. "We talked about…um…"

"Oh never mind," Jackie said. "Duckie, did you find Charlotte? I have a feeling she's lying in a gutter somewhere, and it makes me really nervous."

"No, haven't seen Charlotte," I answered, and gulped down my entire bottle of water in about fifteen seconds. "But Charlie's friend _Adam_ came by."

"Yeah," Charlie added, "but I think he pissed off Elizabeth here."

"You bet your ass he did," I snapped, clenching my hands into fists. "He called me a drunk—right to my face!" Jackie looked at me with a horrified expression. I knew she was thinking the same thing as me: _What an awful person! How can someone like that be friends with Charlie?_

Okay, so I wasn't thinking so much about Charlie, but whatever.

Fortunately, Charlie seized the opportunity to _try_ and defend his friend.

"I'm sorry he's being like this," he said, fiddling with the cap on his bottle of water. "He's really not so bad. I think he's just in a bad mood." But he didn't even know what he was talking about; he was too busy making googly-woogly-eyes at Jackie.

"Yeah, whatever," I announced. "I'm going to the car."

I hopped over the railing and out into the parking lot. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the car. Once inside, I laid across the front seat and sighed. For about five minutes, I just stayed in that position, listening to my breathing and feeling my heart pound in my ears. Suddenly, though, I heard a door slam. It was coming from the Nissan parked next to me on the left. I bolted upright and scrambled to the driver's seat, rolling down the window silently with my ninja skills.

"_What_ is your malfunction, Darcy?"

"What are you talking about?"

_Oh my god_, I thought. _It's Charlie and that Adam Darcy guy!_ I ducked down so that they couldn't see me, and listened in on the conversation.

"You know what I'm talking about! Anywhere we go, you have to make a total idiot of yourself! You don't even _try_ to have fun!"

Darcy looked up at Charlie indignantly. "What if I don't consider this fun? I know I've told you that before. I don't see why I should bother pretending to enjoy myself in a place like this."

"A place like this? _This_ is some of the most fun I've had in years! I've never seen so many gorgeous girls; and so natural and unaffected, too."

"The one you were hanging out with is decent-looking, I'll give you that, but on the whole…I don't like Jersey girls."

"Christ, Adam! Just give these poor girls a chance!"

"I did." He was just making me angrier by the minute. If I hadn't felt so nauseous, I would have jumped out of my car and wrung his throat in two seconds.

"Liar! What about Elizabeth Bennet? Did you give her a chance? No!"

"She was drunk, that's not my thing; besides, she wasn't even that good looking."

_Not very good looking!_ Being the vain creature I was, I couldn't stay silent any longer. I bolted upright and opened the door. Charlie and Adam both stared at me in disbelief.

"You asshole!" I shouted, slamming the car door and storming off.

As I trudged back into the club, I heard Charlie announce, "And _that_, Adam Darcy, is precisely why you are still a virgin."

* * *

Good, bad, ugly? Let me know! 


	3. Chapter 3: Sunburn Sweetheart

Chapter 3

* * *

For the next few weeks, Jackie and Charlie were inseparable. Early mornings soon became routine for my sister, and she never returned home until _very_ late at night. What she was doing, I didn't know: supposedly, they went sailing, and one day in the middle of June they went to Great Adventure, but that was the extent of my knowledge, and it worried me. Stranger still, Jackie would always return _very_ late at night, and without saying a word to me before crashing on her bed. However, the spaced-out grin said it all: she was in love.

Since middle school, we always told each other everything about our crushes and relationships; but now, suddenly, my own Jacqueline was being extremely secretive. Naturally, this sparked my curiosity in a _big_ way.

"What do you guys do all day?" I asked her one night when she came home.

"Oh, you know…stuff."

"Stuff. Right."

Jackie looked at me and giggled. "What, you wanna know if we're doing it or something?"

"Did I say that?" I exclaimed. Jackie rolled her eyes at me and climbed into bed. "But now that you mention it…are you?"

"Ugh, no!" she squealed, throwing a pillow at me.

"Then what _are _you two doing that keeps you out so late?"

"Movies," she announced. "Movies…and opera in the City, and sailing, and dinner and dancing and—oh my god, I'm _so_ in love!"

"Yeah, I figured that much."

"Today we watched the sunrise," she continued. "Then we went berry picking, and had lunch, and went to a go-kart place, and…" Her voice trailed off into a heavily contented sigh. "I just wish you could understand this feeling."

"Well then…try to explain."

"Okay then." She breathed in sharply and sat up in her bed and looked me directly in the eye. "Imagine this: every time I look at him I get these butterflies in my stomach, and my legs feel all wobbly, and my heart gets faster and my breath gets slower, and when he kisses me I can feel it all the way in my fingers and toes."

I closed my eyes and tried to picture what Jackie had just said: it would be so wonderful to be in love. I communicated this information to her, to which she replied, "Yeah, I guess it is. Well, good night." She flopped onto the bed and instantly fell asleep.

But I couldn't. My mind was racing a million miles an hour with thoughts of…love, that fickle thing. I was so jealous of Jackie; I wanted that feeling. It was such an insanely selfish thing, but I wanted someone to adore me and take me places and tell me how special I was to them and kiss me like a hurricane. (And _please_ don't ask me how that metaphor came to be.) The truth was that despite my pragmatic exterior I was really a hopeless romantic. I could never settle for less than a perfect knight in shining armor; naturally, there were none of those in my immediate area (and probably in all of New Jersey, but I'd never bothered to scour the whole state looking) and I had always been a very lonely girl. And somehow, despite Jackie's newfound love, I knew it was impossible for even a little bit of her luck to rub off on me. At that point I felt resigned to the fact that all I could ever hope for was a glimpse of her Vera Wang wedding gown once in a while in my dismal spinster life, and a vivid imagination for things that could never be.

Sometime around two AM I fell asleep, relinquishing my negativity-insomnia-zombie-ness for something decidedly more pleasant.

* * *

"You've got to come with me! It'll be so much fun!"

"Really, I think I'll pass." I was seated on Jackie's bed, watching her pack for a getaway to Atlantic City with Charlie and his entire party. There was no way I was going to subject myself to the uncompromising asshole qualities of Adam Darcy, never minding some of the things I'd heard about Charlie's sisters Caroline and Jennifer, for an entire week. I had far too much dignity for that.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, neatly folding a bikini top and placing it in her duffel bag. "We could both use a little sun and surf. And slots."

"I'm sorry Jackie," I replied flatly, "but not even the allure of the one-armed bandit in a poorly-lit, smoke-filled casino can persuade me to come with you. I'm not really friends with Charlie or his sisters, and god knows I have absolutely no intention of seeing that Darcy bastard again. Or ever, for that matter."

"So…what, you're going to spend the entire week watching television and harassing everyone within telephone's reach?"

"Essentially, yes," I said, laying on the bed. "I'm making a point of doing absolutely nothing as much as I can this entire summer. College is tough, Jax; I want to create enough memories of uselessness and boredom to last me my whole senior year." I thought such a detailed and authoritative response would convince Jacqueline not to push the matter further. Unfortunately, she knew me too well.

"No you're not. You hate being bored. You're just being a stick in the mud." I rolled over and pretended to pay attention to her. "You've got to get out of this funk, Duckie. It's not healthy. Ever since I've been going out with Charlie, we haven't had much time together, and I'm sorry about that. But now he's invited the both of us, and I'd really like it if you came with me and got to know him, and let him get to know you. So what do you say? For me?"

I sat up and handed her a pair of socks that had been under my butt for the past ten minutes. "Nope."

"Fine," she said, crestfallen. "I understand. Maybe you'll change your mind and come join us." She zipped her duffel, slung it over her shoulder, and walked out the door.

Two days later I got a call from Charlie himself, at the Atlantic City Hilton, informing me that Jackie had gotten a "really freakin' nasty" sunburn, and that the only thing she wanted was me there with her. Charlie even noted that there was still an extra bed in the penthouse suite they were staying in.

Naturally, I had to take some time (about thirty seconds) to evaluate the situation: my perfect-as-pie sister was immobile and needed my care; karmatically, I owed it to her; and it wasn't like anyone else in my family was going to come to her aid. I agreed, stuffed a duffel full of clothes, and was in my Corolla before Charlie could hang up.

* * *

"Hey there Elizabeth," Charlie announced, and all of our heads perked up. Caroline, Jennifer, Phil, and I were lounging around the living area of the suite: Phil was sleeping, Caroline was ordering room service, Jennifer was filing her nails, and I had been deeply engaged in a copy of _1984_. "Come on in." I watched her walk into the suite, looking around in awe like a seven-year old at Disneyworld. I tried hard not to stare at her, but I couldn't help it. She was wearing a jean skirt and a faded shirt proudly advertising Meryton High School's 2000 production of _Guys and Dolls_. On her feet were beaten-up Vans and a gold anklet, and her light brown roots were showing from her short pink hair, which she had tucked behind her ears. She looked like she didn't have a care in the world, even though her sister was lying immobile in one of the bedrooms. I found it strangely attractive.

I would never admit this to anyone, but I had seen her around town for the past few weeks, and she was really starting to grow on me. I hadn't actually talked to her since our fateful meeting at the Assembly Room, and when I had seen her she obviously wasn't at her personal best. After the fiasco, Charlie had informed me that she was having a very bad migraine headache that night. I wanted to make amends with her, I really did; but she had probably already hated me with the blazing fire of a thousand suns, so there was really no use in trying to patch things up. This was definitely something I wanted to kick myself repeatedly for, because she was looking dangerously gorgeous in the light of the hotel room.

Like I said, I would never, _ever_ admit this to anyone, especially Elizabeth herself.

Caroline and Jennifer both uttered a spirited (and totally fake) "Hello"; not knowing where my head was, I grunted. So much for making things better. Elizabeth replied to all of us, then turned to Charlie and asked about Jacqueline.

"She's in the bedroom over there," he said, pointing. She thanked him and walked over to the room. As she went past me, I noticed that she smelled like a vanilla cupcake. From that moment, I knew Elizabeth Bennet would be trouble.

As soon as she closed the door in Jacqueline's room, Caroline started up with the conversation.

"Oh my friggin' god," she exclaimed. "I cannot believe Elizabeth Bennet! She looks like a hobo! And she's not even wearing makeup! I bet she must have taken, like, thirty seconds to get ready today! It's just awful!"

"And that pink hair!" Jennifer shrieked, wrinkling her nose. "That is without a doubt the tackiest thing I have _ever_ seen!"

"No it's not," Charlie said, looking sternly at his cackling sisters. "She wanted to get to her sister as fast as she could. She knows she doesn't have to impress any of you guys."

"Ugh, Charlie, you're hopeless," Caroline scoffed. Then she turned to me with a glimmer in her eye, like she knew everything that I was thinking. Caroline had a very scary way of doing that. "At least Adam understands, don't you Adam? You wouldn't want your sister looking like that, now would you?"

"Of course not," I answered, swallowing the lump in my throat. It was almost like Caroline was trying to pry my attraction to Elizabeth out of my mouth. "I mean, Elizabeth is from New Jersey; what else would you expect?"

Caroline giggled deviously. "Oh really. That's kind of funny, Adam."

"What do you mean?" It was getting unbearably hot in the room all of a sudden.

"I saw the way you looked at her just now," she said, smirking. I glared at her incredulously. "Oh, don't deny it. You _like_ it like that." Caroline, Jennifer, and Charlie focused their attentions on me, like I was a zoo animal and they were waiting for me to do a trick.

"Um, I, er…" I stammered, "I, uh, _guess_ she's not too bad looking. She's got nice eyes."

"Ha! I knew it!" Caroline shouted, the mimosa she was drinking shooting out of her nose. After regaining her breath, she sashayed over to me. "Don't worry Adam," she whispered. "I won't tell about your little crushy!" She and Jennifer broke into a fit of giggles and I could feel my face turning red as Jacqueline's sunburn. I wanted to sink into the sofa and disappear.

Fortunately, a knock at the door saved me.

"That must be room service!" Caroline shouted, and bolted for the door. As she and Jennifer dove into their bruschetta and daquiris, the whole embarrassing Elizabeth issue vanished into thin air…for the moment, anyway.

* * *

"So, you wanna tell me what happened?" I asked the waking Jackie as I squeezed aloe vera gel onto her lobster-red back.

"I fell asleep by the pool," she replied in short breaths. "I was so stupid; I forgot sunscreen." I smoothed the gel on her back, which had one white strip from her bikini across it. I felt so bad for her, but it looked so funny.

_Don't say anything,_ I repeated in my head. _Don't say anything about the tan line._

"These things happen," I sighed, trying to soothe her. The room smelled like menthol. "Remember that time when Gabby did that fake tan stuff, and she turned orange? At least you're not orange. That's good, right Jax?"

Jackie laughed faintly; it probably hurt to laugh. I had better not try to say anymore funny things.

"Okay, no more talking about all the stupid shit Gabby's done," I said. "Anyway, changing the subject: aside from your lobsterfication, how have things been?"

"Pretty good, I guess," Jackie said. "Charlie's been awesome. The first thing he did when he saw my burn was go to the store and buy, like, every kind of aloe gel they had. And before that…we had a blast at the beach. Last night we went to this fabulous Italian place, just the two of us. And the night before, we all went out to a club. Well, everyone except Adam. He's barely said two sentences the whole time we've been here."

"Sounds about right," I remarked, sitting on the floor cross-legged. "And how about Caroline and Jennifer? Have they been nice?"

"Oh, of course," Jackie exclaimed. "Why wouldn't they be? They've been nothing but a blast the whole time. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," I said dismissively. "I just heard from some people that they weren't very nice. I just don't want you being involved with a bad crowd."

"Hey," Jackie said, reaching for my hand, "don't worry about me, Duckie. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself. Except," she reached for an empty tumbler on the nightstand, "could you please get me another glass of water?"

"Sure thing, poor baby," I laughed, exiting the room. As soon as I closed her door, Charlie rushed up to me.

"How's she doing?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "I've been too afraid to check on her."

"It's pretty bad," I replied, scratching an itch on my arm, "she can't really move. But I'm hoping she'll be alright in a few days, and I can leave; I wouldn't want to cramp your style any more than I have to."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," exclaimed Charlie, mortified by the idea that I might not exactly be a welcome addition to the party. "We've got plenty of space, and we're all pretty accommodating. Don't worry about a thing." He glanced at the glass in my hand. "Oh, did she need more water? Here," he mumbled, taking the glass from me and filling it from a bottle of Aquafina in the mini-fridge. "I'll go bring this to her. Just, um, make yourself at home." Charlie dashed into Jackie's room, and I suddenly found myself in the same position as a rabbit surrounded by a pack of wolves. Caroline, Jennifer, and Adam were all looking at me like I had five heads. I cautiously made my way over to a plush sofa, which, unfortunately, was occupied by Adam Darcy. He glared at me and returned to his book. I sat at the other end of the sofa and crossed my legs. I scooted all the way over, so that I was right up against the arm rest; I wanted to be as far away from Adam as possible.

"So Elizabeth," Caroline started, peering up at me from over her daiquiri, "how _are_ things back in Meryton?"

"Well," I answered meekly (totally unlike me, but whatever), "it was about 89 degrees outside when I left; very sunny. You know, the usual."

"How are your sisters?"

"Fine, I guess. Gabrielle and Kat were--"

Caroline cut me off with a "That's nice." Things were already going downhill.

A silence fell over the four of us, as Adam shut his book and pulled out a laptop from the bag next to him on the ground. We all watched detachedly as he balanced the computer on his knees, fixed a pair of earbud headphones in his ears, and began typing. I took this to mean that any hope for conversation had flown out the window, so I fished my iPod out of my backpack and tuned everyone else out.

I had eventually dozed off, but, being the light sleeper I was, I was awakened by Caroline plodding by me behind the couch. I figured she had come to harass me, so I left the headphones in my ears. I would choose Beck over Caroline Bingley any day. But, as it turned out, she had come to bother the hell out of Adam. I paused "Where It's At" and tuned into the conversation.

"Whatcha doing?" Caroline cooed, draping her arms over his chest. He shrugged her off and returned to his typing.

"Writing an e-mail," he replied flatly.

"To who?" Adam looked obviously peeved at this intrusion on his privacy. I almost felt bad for him…_almost_ being the key word.

"My sister."

"Oh, Meg!" shouted Caroline. "How _is_ she? Has she thought any more about coming to Paris with me and Jennifer over Christmas?"

_Ooh, Paris_, I thought. _Lucky bitches._

"I don't know," said Adam. "I haven't asked her."

"Well ask her now, you silly billy! And tell her I said hello!" Adam grunted and closed the laptop.

"Please leave me alone, Caroline," he said matter-of-factly. "I really don't appreciate you bothering me like this."

"Bothering you!" cried Caroline melodramatically. "I just wanted to—oh, never mind!"

This girl could probably give my mother a run for her money in the drama department.

I chuckled to myself at the thought of a mom-versus-Caroline Drama-Off. Suddenly, Caroline swirled around in my direction and put her hands on her hips.

"Is something funny, Elizabeth?" she asked.

"Oh, no," I replied hastily, un-pausing my music. "Just my music."

"What are you listening to?" she inquired. What was this, _20 Questions_?

"Beck."

"Oh, is that one of those indie rock bands? Are you one of those indie rock kids?"

"Uh, no, not really," I said, shrinking into the couch. Caroline Bingley was getting scarier by the minute. Adam looked on with a smirk, obviously amused by the turn of events. "I mean, Beck is pretty mainstream. I wouldn't consider myself an 'indie rock kid'." I also wanted to add, "And Beck is one person, you dumb whore," but I decided against it.

"Adam's indie rock," Caroline announced, shooting a seductive glance in his direction. Adam scrunched up his face in an "Ew!" look a la Summer from _The O.C._ Caroline continued, "his favorite band is Muse. They're too weird for me, but, you know…whatever."

"I like Muse," I blurted absentmindedly.

_Oh no,_ my mind suddenly shouted. _What if he got the wrong idea and thinks I'm trying to flirt with him? EW!_

"I like Beck," he answered.

"Oh, Beck's not my favorite; actually, my favorite band is Mêlée." Okay, my mouth was just running now. "They're pretty cool, but not a lot of people have heard of them."

"I've seen them live," said Adam condescendingly. "They put on a pretty good show. They're pretty popular in SoCal."

_Wanker._

The tension in the room was getting to be unbearable, but (and I never thought I'd say this) luckily, Caroline seized the opportunity to add her two cents. "Adam has family in LA," she said. "He knows, like, _everything_ about the music scene there."

"That's not true," Adam stammered, "you're totally exaggerating. California's so huge; it's impossible to know everything about the scene there."

Suddenly Charlie burst out of Jackie's room. "Caroline, do you have any refills left on your Vicodin?" What a way to break the mood.

"Yeah, two," Caroline snapped back. "What do _you_ need them for?"

"Not for me, silly, for Jackie. She looks pretty bad. I think she could use some painkillers."

I put the headphones back in my ears and zoned out. The one great thing about the Bingley family was their impeccable knack for changing subjects.

* * *

"Vegetable korma for Caroline and Jenny, duck vindaloo for Adam, and tandoori chicken with yogurt sauce for Elizabeth." Charlie handed me the Styrofoam box with my share of the Indian take-out he had just returned with. I took it from him and opened the box. Steam rose from the food: several chunks of chicken, the skin red from the tandoori spices, placed atop a bed of fragrant rice with an off-white sauce drizzled over the whole thing, accompanied by two pieces of nan bread. Before I dug in, I watched the others' reactions. Caroline gaped at her food like it was a box full of alien eggs, and Adam remarked on how his looked extremely low-quality.

_Picky, picky_, I thought, smiling, as I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. Charlie had brought Jackie some plain bread, rice, and some sort of cucumber-yogurt salad thing, and she was up to sitting on the couch and eating it in delicate bites. I honestly never knew how much a sunburn could take out of a person.

"So Jacqueline, how are you feeling?" Jennifer asked, feigning interest.

"Fine, I guess," Jackie replied politely. "It feels good to get something substantial in me again." She tore a small piece of bread and popped it in her mouth.

"Well, I'm just glad you're up and about," Caroline enthused. "Jenny and I were missing your company."

"Oh, I'm sure Lizzy kept you busy," said Jackie nonchalantly.

"Errr…right, whatever. Anyway, if you're feeling up to it, tomorrow we should go down to the casino. How does that sound to you guys?"

"Sure," Charlie said. "I've got a few bucks to waste. Jackie, you can see the master in action!"  
"Yeah, the master loser," Adam snorted.

"What about you, Adam?" Caroline asked, moving closer to him on the floor. "I bet you could win plenty of money, you're so clever." She rested her head on his shoulder; I fought the need to vomit.

"I don't gamble; you know that," he replied coldly. "I think it's a total waste of time and money."

"Oh, Adam, you're all sense and morals," Caroline gushed, tracing his jawline with one of her perfectly manicured fingers. "That's what I _love_ about you." Adam shrunk back (presumably in fear), and smacked her hand away.

"I'm not, and you know it. I've done my fair share of senseless things; I just choose not to most of the time."

"What-_ever_, Adam. You're as pure as the driven snow, don't deny it. I bet you've never done a single crazy thing in your life."

This was getting _very_ interesting.

"Yes I have."

"Name _one_ thing."

"Fine, I will." He sat there, cross-legged, for a good thirty seconds, deep in thought.

"I knew it," Caroline said smugly. "You are totally responsible!" A blush crept across Adam's face, and he buried his head in his hands.

"Well," announced Charlie, standing up. "We'll just have to remedy the situation." He walked over to a cupboard in the kitchenette and pulled out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. "Adam Darcy, tonight you are going to get stupid."

"What are you doing?" I asked, outraged. I had a feeling that whatever was cooking in Charlie's brain was going to end _very_ badly.

"Exactly what I told you," he replied, clearing the food off the coffee table. "You've never done anything crazy, and I'm fixing that." He set the two shot glasses on the table and the bottle of tequila between them. "Is there anyone here who wants to challenge this fine young man here?"

I suddenly realized what was going on: Charlie was going to get me drunk as all hell.

"I'm good," Caroline and Jennifer backed out in unison.

"Oh come on," whined Charlie. "Is there anyone here who can hold their liquor?"

"Lizzy can," Jacqueline announced suddenly, pointing at her sister. Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she shook her head violently in protest.

"Oh come on," Jacqueline pleaded. "You can do it!"

"Oh, okay," Elizabeth sighed. "Lay it on me. With any luck, Darcy here'll be down in two shots and I won't have to spend tomorrow morning with my head in the toilet."

"You think that, Bennet," I seethed. How _dare_ she insult my drinking abilities!

"Alright," Charlie whooped, "it's on like Donkey Kong!" He steadily poured the amber liquid in the glasses and set the bottle back on the table. One full glass was in front of me, and the other was in front of Elizabeth. She locked her gaze on mine, her eyes brimming with determination to win. "On your mark…get set…go!"

Without breaking the gaze, we both picked up our glasses, tilted back our heads, and threw the liquid down our throats. It burned, but I pushed the sensation out of my mind and slammed the glass back on the table at the same time as her. Charlie filled the glasses back up and we both hawked back the tequila again, locked in the heat of competition. I was starting to feel queasy, but I kept going; I had already done two shots, more than Elizabeth thought I was capable of, and I wasn't dropping out now.

"Had enough yet, Darcy?" she asked smugly.

"Hardly." Charlie glanced nervously from me to her and back again, and filled the glasses once more. My stomach felt like it was doing flips, but I took the shot anyway. And that's when—right as I was putting down my glass—it happened: all the alcohol went straight to my head, and I suddenly felt very good. Everything was beginning to have a warm glow, and it was the most beautiful and peaceful thing I had ever seen.

I stared ahead at Elizabeth; she was rapping her fingers on the surface of the glass coffee table and looking at me with a triumphant grin on her face. Yup, she had won; I was feeling very tipsy, and I knew I couldn't handle any more.

"You don't look so good," she remarked, leaning over to me.

_Oh, but you do,_ I thought. And she really did, in that drunken amber light: her blue-green eyes seemed endless and wild, and perfectly complimented her Manic Panic pink hair. Her lips looked lush and kissable—

And that was totally the tequila talking. I shook my head (bad, _bad_ idea) and tried to push the thoughts out of my head. Sure, she was pretty, but I didn't need to sit around like a drunken boob and stare at every gorgeous part of her. I had to think of something wrong with her, and quickly: nose, hips, feet, breasts, _anything_!

Well, she did have a little _more_ around the middle than most girls; but then "most girls", to me, were anorexic New York modeling ingénues. It was a sorry excuse. I couldn't find anything wrong with her.

"Hello?" she asked, waving her hand in front of me. "Hey, Spaceboy, you alright?"

"What?" I asked, snapping out of my reverie. "What's going on?"

"Oh man," Charlie laughed. "That went to your head pretty damn fast. You lose."

"Yeah, whatever," I said, the agony of defeat rearing its ugly head again. I was starting to see two of everything, and I felt like I was floating.

"You know," Elizabeth announced smugly, "I think I'll have another." Caroline, Jacqueline, Jennifer, and Charlie stared at her, gawking. She smiled. "I'm totally kidding!"

Suddenly, she stood up and climbed over the coffee table, her hand over her mouth. She plowed me over and rushed toward the bathroom. I heard the familiar sound of her puking and felt pretty nauseous myself. I tried to ignore it, but after about two minutes I made my way to the bathroom, stuck my head in the direction of the toilet bowl, and let up pretty much everything I had eaten that day.

"I guess we're even now," Elizabeth said, looking down on me from her perch on the sink-counter.

"Hardly," I replied, wiping my mouth. "That makes one for me and two for you."

"Nope," she insisted. "I faked it. I just wanted to make you nauseous."

I glanced up at her and sighed heavily. "You amaze me."

"Thank you."

* * *

Wow...three chapters out of the way! Oh yeah! Next chapter: Collins and Wickham!


	4. Chapter 4: California Boys

Okay, so I know it's been forever since my last update...I've been doing so many things (not to mention a killer writer's block!) But the summer is winding down for me, and updates should be more regular now. I'm gonna be a senior...go me!

Anyhoo, thanks for all the reviews, they've been bitchin'. They make me happy, like little cupcakes! But enough of my strange metaphors. On with the story!

* * *

Chapter 4: California Boys

* * *

Three days later, we left. Jackie was sad to leave her loverboy, but I couldn't get out of there fast enough: watching Jackie and Charlie's incessant canoodling only made me more painfully aware of my own nonexistent love life…to say nothing of the fact that the only other male in suite 513 at the Atlantic City Hilton was a total asswipe who couldn't even hold his alcohol.

"It's just not right," I communicated to Charlotte over Frappucinos at Starbucks one particularly scorching day in early July. "I mean, Jackie just walks by and every guy in a one-mile radius is hopelessly in love with her."

"I know _exactly_ what you mean," Charlotte replied. "She's got a rich, good-looking, _nice_ guy without even trying, and here we are…rejects."

"I know, right?" I absentmindedly said. "What's wrong with us? Are we defective or something?"

"Maybe." We both stared at each other, scrutinizing, hoping to find the answer: there was Charlotte, five foot five inches, with high cheekbones, dazzling almond eyes, slightly chubby, dressed head to toe in Urban Outfitters wares. She wasn't the ideal American Beauty, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. And then there was me: size 10, choppy pink hair, torn up Levi's and even more torn up flip-flops, slouching over in my chair.

I sighed, taking another sip of my mocha Frap. I probably got mistaken for a homeless person a lot.

"Don't sigh like that, Duckie," Charlotte scolded, pounding her fist on the table. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with either of us, god dammit! Some day we will both find men who appreciate us for what we are!"

"You're damn right!" I answered in equal volume, standing up. Charlotte was my soul sister—we didn't need some stupid guys to make our lives complete! This was the 21st Century!

Unfortunately, I decided to look around from my spot on my proverbial high horse: we had attracted quite a bit of attention. Everyone in Starbucks was staring at us like we were escaped mental patients. I picked up my Frapuccino and cleared my throat.

"Well," I said, doing my best Peter Griffin imitation, "time for me to be hittin' the old dusty trail." I turned to Charlotte. "Thanks for the coffee."

As I opened the door, I ran smack into Kat, spilling my Frapuccino all over my chest. She grabbed my shoulders and began jumping up and down anxiously.

"Lizzy, Lizzy, you won't believe this!"

"What?" I asked, pushing her off of me and grabbing a handful of napkins.

"You will not believe who's in our living room right now!"

"Who?"

"Guess!"

"Come on, Kat. I don't have time for this." She just stared at me without any intention of telling me until I made a guess. "Michael Jackson?"

"Close, but no," she answered, latching back on to my shoulders. Her face suddenly took on an expression of dread and anxiety, like she was about to tell me that the four horsemen of the Apocalypse were in our living room. "You remember our cousin Colin Summers?"

My eyes widened in horror. Remember? How could I forget _that_? "Creepy Cousin Colin?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yup," Kat said, returning to her usual cheerfulness, "that one."

Now it was _my_ turn to grab on to Kat's shoulders. "What do you mean, he's in our living room? How? _Why_?"

"He says his house is being renovated, and he just showed up at our door this morning expecting us to let him shack up with us for the rest of the summer!"

My eyes pretty much popped out of my head. Creepy Colin, _here,_ for the whole summer? Could things get any worse?

"What's going on here?" Charlotte asked, handing me some more napkins. "What's up, Kat?"

"Our cousin Colin just showed up unannounced at our house," Kat answered, like she was tired of saying it. I didn't blame her.

"Creepy Colin?" asked Charlotte. "The pasty nasal breather threw a baseball at you and broke your nose at a family reunion when you were thirteen?"

"That's the one."

"Oh god, I am _so_ sorry."

"It's not your fault," I absentmindedly replied, throwing my napkins away. "It's my bad karma. This is what I get for making fun of hobos."

"But Elizabeth, you're Episcopal," said Kat unintelligently. "You don't believe in karma."

"Well," I answered, "how else can you explain Colin Summers in our house right now?"

"Okay, maybe it _is_ karma," Kat concluded. "Anyway, there's no time to waste! You have to get home before he bores us all to death!" She grabbed me by the wrist and began dragging me out the door of the coffeehouse.

"Bye!" I called to Charlotte as I passed through the doorway. "Thanks for the coffee!"

* * *

"Elizabeth," Colin called, standing up from his seat on the couch, "it's so nice to see you again. You've grown into _quite_ the lovely young woman."

_Oh god, kill me now_, I thought. He was still as pale and chipmunk-cheeked as ever, but had tiny metal-framed glasses covering his squinty eyes, not to mention a pink Lacoste polo shirt and Birkenstock sandals with white Gold Toe socks. He screamed metrosexual in a really, _really_ bad way.

"Colin," I replied absentmindedly. "Um, hi." He reached out to me and wrapped his chubby arms around me in a crushing hug. He smelled like he had bathed in Ralph Lauren cologne; it wasn't until I found myself in a coughing fit from the stench that he pulled away.

"To what—ahem—do we—ahem—owe this—hack—pleasure of your—rrrreck—visit?"

"Oh," he began, patting my hand, "My employer, Catherine Burton—the widow of the famous movie tycoon Andre Burton—is having her house redone, and the guesthouse I live in has been completely gutted." I snapped my hand away and focused on the tiny alligator applique on the left side of his shirt. Not even five minutes and already this was spiraling down a violent path to the Twilight Zone. "So I'm _hoping_ that you and the rest of your wonderful family will put up with me for a comparatively short period of time. I'll try not to be an inconvenience to you, Elizabeth."

_Fat chance of that,_ I thought, rolling my eyes.

"Lizzy," hissed my mother, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to the side.

"What?"

She whispered in my ear, "Be nice. Colin works for an A-list celebrity, and he makes quite a lot of money. Plus, he's our relative. I will _not_ have you making us look bad."

"Chill out, mom," I seethed back, shaking off her grip and walking over to the stairs. "I'm going to my room," I announced to the rest of the party. "If you need me, I'll be listening to the Killers."

"Hey, waidaminnit!" Gabrielle called, as I approached the staircase. She grabbed my wrist and stared up at me with her beady blue eyes. "You're supposed to take me and Kat to the mall!"

"I am _not_," I groaned, walking up two stairs and hoping she would let go. What was it with people holding onto me for dear life today?

"But mom said you would!" I turned around and shot her the Death Glare that she was so fond of bestowing on others.

"She did? Well, if she did she certainly didn't talk to _me_ about it first. And as far as I'm concerned, I'm not taking you."

"Oh yes you are," mom called from the living room. "You are taking your sisters to the mall whether you want to or not."

Gabrielle grinned smugly up at me and stuck her tongue out. I had the urge to grab it and rip it out of her mouth, but I decided against it.

"Fine, whatever," I said indignantly. I was going to take this with dignity. "Anyone who's going, come on." Gabrielle and Kat lined up behind me. "Coming, Sharon?" Sharon shook her head halfheartedly and I rolled my eyes. Go figure.

"I'm coming," Jackie said, rushing toward the coat closet. "Just let me get my stuff." She pulled out her purse and a flossy knit shrug and stood at the front door.

"Oh, why don't you take Colin with you?" suggested my mother.

"But—"

"Hey, you know, that would be fan_tastic_," Colin enthused, clasping his hands together. "There's this shirt I've been _dying_ to get from Hollister; you _do_ have a Hollister at your mall, right?"

"Duh," Gabrielle said. "We've got, like, everything."

"Splendid, then," squealed mom. "Colin will go with you, and you can take the minivan. Sharon, go with them."

"How about _no_?" Sharon answered, delving back into _The Perks of Being a Wallflower._ How fitting.

"Go!" Sharon scrambled off the couch and slammed her book shut. She glared at me and grabbed her messenger bag from the landing on the stairs.

"God help me," I mouthed to Jackie. She chuckled and we headed out the door.

* * *

"Where could they be?" I asked, sucking down my strawberry banana smoothie. "She said they'd meet us her at 3:30!"

"I wouldn't worry about it," Colin offered, trying to sound helpful. "They're probably just trying on skirts in Aeropostale. It's a shame you guys don't have more money; Catherine Burton's daughter Melanie is a total designer clothing horse! She can barely keep track of all the Chanel and Valentino and Louis Vuitton! Melanie has this gorgeous tiered Cavalli miniskirt that would look so fabulous on your youngest sister Gabrielle, if only you could afford it—"

"Colin, please shut up," I interrupted, slamming my smoothie on the food court table. "I don't want to hear about Catherine Burton _or_ her daughter!"

"Pardon?" he asked.

"What Elizabeth means," Jackie covered for me, "is that it was kind of you to _compliment_ Gabrielle, but that it makes her very sad that we do not have the money to afford such wonderful couture."

"Ah, of course," Colin replied, peering at me from over his nose. "Envy is a powerful emotion."

_Envy! Hardly!_

I clenched my hands into fists and sat on top of them to keep from pounding Colin into a pulp. Envy? Why would I be envious of some rich bitch and her daughter, with so serious a lack of brain cells as to actually hire Colin?

Maybe I should have punched Colin, just because it would have been so easy. But the sound of Gabrielle calling out, "Hey! Hey, Lizzy!" diverted my attentions. She and Kat had shopping bags on their arms and were grabbing two guys by the wrists. "Hey Lizzy, Jackie, guess who we found!"

"Jesus?" I asked sarcastically.

"Just turn around, you stupid girl."

"Oh, for the love of—oh, hey Denny!" I turned around once again to face my friend; only this time, he had someone else with him. And this someone else just happened to be absolutely stunningly gorgeous. I swear, if there were ever a time to believe in love at first sight, this was it.

This _angel_ who was standing slightly to my right had a mop of wavy golden-blonde surfer hair, a tight The Bravery shirt, skinny Levi's jeans, dark green Converse, and a sort of half-smirk-half-nervous-smile that made me want to jump him right there; in short, total California Urban Outfitters poster boy. I had already fallen hard.

"Oh, yeah," Denny said, quickly glancing from me to the Golden Boy, "um, Elizabeth, Jackie, this is my friend Aaron Wickham. He's our band's new guitarist."

"Hi," Aaron said cheerfully. "Nice to meet you ladies…and your friend." He gestured at Colin, who held out his hand readily, squawking, "Colin Summers, nice to meet you," like the parrot he was.

Gabrielle giggled flirtatiously and grabbed my arm. "Isn't he scrumptious?" she hissed in my ear. "I'd totally do him anytime."

"Ew," I mouthed, pulling my arm away. It was one thing to think about shagging the living daylights out of Aaron Wickham on a food court table (my idea) but it was something just better left unsaid; unfortunately, my fifteen-year old sister had to say it.

"Aaron just moved here from Los Angeles," Kat announced, trying to bring attention to herself (which was a good idea, because we had pretty much forgotten she was there, per usual.)

"Yeah," Aaron added. "I tried to break into the music world, but the cost of living in LA just got to be too much."

"So that explains the surfer look," said Jackie. "Did you grow up there?"

"Uh, no. Actually, I grew up on Cape Cod. I only lived in Cali for about a year."

"Cool," was all I could manage to say in an uncharacteristically breathless way. I gazed up at him, and our eyes locked for a split second, before something else (unfortunately) caught my eye—Charlie Bingley and Adam Darcy at 12 o' clock!

"Oh Jackie," I said, gesturing for her to look behind, "there's your loverboy." I smiled evilly at her, my eyes narrowed. This would be payback for Atlantic City. I stood up and cupped my hands around my mouth. "Yoo-hoo, Loverboy," I called in Charlie's direction. "Over heeeeere!"

"Duckie, please," Jackie yelped, burying her head in her hands. "This is _so _embarrassing."

"What's going on?" Colin asked, looking around frantically.

"My boyfriend, apparently," Jackie replied, taking a deep breath and smiling. She stood up and walked over to him; he pulled her into a deep kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist. It was a totally unnecessary public display of affection, but I suppose they deserved it. They were both wonderfully sweet, generous people. That…that was something to be envious of. I turned to Adam Darcy, who was looking on with an expression of mild disgust. I whipped back around to face Aaron.

"Ignore that, please," I said, pretending to wave the situation away. "They haven't seen each other in a while—which is weird, because he only lives, like, a few streets away from us."

"It happens," Aaron replied. I nodded vigorously, getting lost in his blue eyes again. But Gabrielle jabbed me in the side with her elbow and woke me from my unspeakable daydream.

"Oh my god," she hissed, furrowing her brow to look serious, "that dipshit Darcy is coming over here!" I thought I noticed Aaron twitch slightly at the mention of Adam's name.

_Whoa, what do we have here?_

"Well, that made my day," Adam said, announcing his unwelcome arrival. "Nothing like two people sucking face in the middle of a mall food court to make you feel good about yourself."

"Yeah, whatever," said Gabrielle, latching on to Aaron as I walked closer to Adam (probably a bad move.)

"You're a bit more sarcastic than usual, Adam," I observed, placing my hands on my hips and cocking my head to one side. "It _is_ alright if I call you Adam, isn't it?"

"I guess," he said detachedly. "I really don't care what you call me…I'm sure you've called me plenty of things."

"You know it." He looked over my shoulder at what was happening behind me. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he took a deep, labored breath. Jealousy, perhaps, at the California god my sisters and I were hanging with? I decided to reserve my theorizing until I knew more.

"Oh, Adam," I said, gesturing in the direction of Gabrielle, Kat, and Aaron, "This is our new friend Aaron Wickham. And of course you remember my youngest sisters, Gabrielle and Kat. And this is Colin Summers, my cousin." Adam grunted and nodded his head, and Aaron nodded back. Colin looked auspiciously from one to the other, trying to comprehend this sudden influx of new people.

"Well, it was, um, _nice_ to see all of you," Adam finally said hazily, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off.

"That was weird," Kat announced. "Why did he come over here at all?"

"I don't know," Gabrielle answered the rhetorical question. "Probably just to bother us." She suddenly switched on her biggest smile and turned it at Aaron Wickham. "But enough about that guy. Aaron, you should _totally_ come to my Aunt Alice's Fourth of July party tomorrow night! Everyone who's anyone in Meryton will be there, and you should meet them all!"

"Yeah, totally!" Kat agreed.

I would have said something, but I was much too preoccupied by the meeting between Adam and Aaron. When I mentioned Adam, Aaron twitched. When Adam saw Aaron, his eyes bugged out. Weird things, indeed. My head had gone to outer space.

"I'd love that," Aaron enthused, "but I don't think I've been invited."

"Oh, that doesn't matter," said Gabrielle, grabbing his arm. "You will be universally loved."

"Yes," I added absentmindedly. "At least more so than _some_ people."

"Duckie," Jackie called from across the food court, "Charlie and I are going to a movie! I'll see you later!"

_Oh, to be young and in love_, I thought, chuckling.

* * *

"Hey, you guys actually made it," Gabrielle said, dragging me over to the arch-shaped trellis in my Aunt Alice's backyard where Aaron, Denny, and Denny's younger brother Quentin were gathered. She plucked two bottles of beer from a nearby bucket and walked across the lawn to the three boys. "What's up?" She handed one Miller Lite to Denny and the other to Aaron. They twisted off the caps and held out their bottles in cheers.

"Such service," Aaron laughed. I held out my wine cooler and Gabrielle stuck her highly illegal beer in the jumble. Drinking when you're fifteen and surrounded by everyone you know? Hey, I never said Gabby was the sharpest tool in the shed. But I didn't bother saying anything. "What shall we toast?"

"America, I guess," I announced, looking up into Aaron's deep blue eyes. He smiled at me and clinked his bottle against mine.

"To America," he replied, and we all took swigs. It was definitely the cheesiest moment of the entire summer. In the meantime, Gabby had linked her arm with Aaron's and was leading him off in the direction of all the adults.

"Come on, Aaron, I want you to meet everyone," she said, pulling on him. As I watched them walk across the lawn, Charlotte came up to me.

"Hey," she asked, peering in Aaron's direction, "who is that _fine_ hunk of man over there with your obviously underage sister?"

"Are you trying to tell me something, Char?" I laughed, taking a sip of my Bartles and Jaymes.

"Just answer the question."

"Well, if you insist on knowing, his name is Aaron Wickham. We just met him yesterday at the mall; he's the new guitarist in Denny's band."

"Uh-huh, is that right?" We stared at each other awkwardly for about half a minute before we both burst into laughter. We were quite a spectacle.

"Oh my god, seriously," I choked out in between school girl-ish giggling, "he is _so_ gorgeous, though!"

"If you like that sort of thing," she said, cocking her head to the side.

"What sort of thing?"

"You know, the surfer pretty boy types. Definitely right up your alley."

"Well _thanks,_ Dr. Ruth," I snorted, resting my hands on my hips.

"Dr. Ruth is for sex, not matchmaking," retorted Charlotte, smacking me on the side of the head. "Retard." We both had a good laugh about it, and sat down on the backyard swing.

"But really, Char," I said, moving my feet back and forth with the creaking swing, "the weirdest thing happened yesterday when we met him."

"Do tell…"

"Okay, but you have to _promise_ not to tell _anyone_, got it?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye and all that junk."

I pulled her in close to me and whispered in her ear. "We were at the mall—you know, Gabby and Kat and Colin and Jax and me—and we're all sitting there talking to Aaron, right?"

"Uh-huh, I'm with you so far."

"Anyway, and then Charlie and that Adam _wanker_ Darcy came up to us and Aaron got all twitchy."

"What do you think it was?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"That's not the end of it though. And then when Adam saw Aaron, his eyes went all huge and buggy and--"

"So do you think they know each other or something?"

"That's gotta be it," I said matter-of-factly, "unless they both had minor heart attacks at the same time or something else highly improbable."

"Well, why don't you ask him, then?"

"Who? Aaron or Adam?"

"Either one. But I think you have a better chance of talking to Aaron. He's walking right towards us."

I immediately straightened my posture, quickly flipped my hair, and acted like my conversation with Charlotte was completely casual. _Completely casual. As if I could ever pull _that _off._

"Hello ladies," Aaron greeted us, waving nonchalantly. "Some weather we're having, huh?"

"Weather?" Charlotte snorted. "Who talks about the weather? We wanna know all about _you_."

"Yeah," I continued. "Like what music do you like, or are you into scrapbooking—"

"And how do you know Adam Darcy?"

"Charlotte!" I squeaked, going completely bug-eyed. How dare she ask him something like that right off the cuff?

"What?" she answered sheepishly. "It's a perfectly legitimate question."

Aaron smiled and sat down on the grass in front of us. "Actually, I was hoping nobody would pick up on it, but I guess you ladies are far too sharp for me."

"And?" Charlotte pushed. Honestly, how could she be so tactless? I mean, I was dying to find out too, but _come on!_

"Well, it's kind of complicated," he began, "and you have to swear not to tell anyone. I don't want to make a big deal out of it, okay?"

"We promise."

"Okay, so…honestly, I've known Adam Darcy my entire life."

"No!" I gasped.

"Yeah. We grew up together. My dad worked for his dad, and they were very close friends. The old man thought of me as a second son. Adam was never really popular, so I was kind of his best friend by default. We went to the same boarding school and everything." Suddenly, he stopped speaking and looked off into the distance.

"And then what happened?" I asked, more than a little anxious.

"Well…my freshman year of high school, my dad died. Mr. Darcy basically took me in and cared for me. Adam and I both graduated at the top of our classes. But then Mr. Darcy died that summer before I started college. In his will, he had set aside money to pay for my tuition to go to Yale just like Adam."

"Wait—you went to Yale?"

"Yeah, but I dropped out. I woke up one morning and realized that this wasn't the life I wanted, you know? It might have been fine for Adam, but I wanted to travel the world and learn my own way. Adam was a few years older than me, and he had already graduated, so he was in charge of his father's estate; so I asked him for the rest of the money that was set aside for my tuition so I could travel."

"What'd he do?" I asked, eyes wide.

"He said no. Not only that, he totally cut me off. I had nothing. I had just enough money in my savings account to buy a plane ticket to Los Angeles. I went through bartender training and got a job at a club. I tried to make it as a musician, but it just didn't work out. Life in California got too expensive. And I heard that a band here was looking for a new guitarist, and rest is history."

I shut my eyes tight and tried to take in everything Aaron had just told me. I couldn't believe that Adam Darcy would be so cruel! I mean, I knew he was a prick, but I didn't think he could be capable of something like that.

"That…that asshole!" I seethed, standing up. "That is so terrible! The next time I see him, I am totally going to kick his ass!"

"Errr…" Aaron stammered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "That's not really necessary. I mean, my life's not so bad. If it weren't for all this shit that happened, I wouldn't be here. I'm surrounded by friendly people, the weather's nice, and I have a roof over my head."

"Well, when you put it that way…" I answered, sitting back down.

"Plus, I don't want to make a deal out of it. It's not my place to disgrace him. Eventually, I'm sure he'll do that himself."

"Oh, I think he already has," blurted Charlotte.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing." We stood in silence, glancing shiftily at each other, until I saw Gabrielle running toward us in the distance.

"Aaron, Aaron, you gotta see this! Mr. Wong got _so_ many fireworks!" She jumped onto his back and latched onto him. "Come on! Gimme a piggy-back ride!" Aaron laughed and hauled her away to where Charlotte's dad's truck was parked, the bed full of fireworks.

"Oh, now that's just sad," I said, turning to Charlotte.

"What: your sister, Adam Darcy's heart of stone, or the fact that my dad didn't get arrested for transporting all those fireworks?"

"All of it," I answered, taking another swig of my wine cooler. "Oh well. Happy Independence Day, Charlotte."

* * *

"Are you serious?" Jackie asked, her mouth full of toothpaste.

"Jackie, if my hair were on fire, I couldn't be more serious. He told us himself! I really don't think Aaron would lie to me."

"Well, you know him better than I do, Duckie." She spit into the sink as I sat on the chair in the corner of the bathroom. "But even so, you've only known him for a few days; he could very well be lying. If I were you, I would try and get Adam's side of the story before you make up your mind on who to believe."

"Ugh! No freaking way! That would mean I'd have to talk to him! I might just die!"

"But at least you'd die with an open mind."

"Jackie, there's a difference between an open mind and a hole in the head."

"Fine, whatever," she said, wiping her mouth with a towel. "If you won't find out, I will. I'll ask Charlie." She grabbed her cell phone off the vanity and waved it around. "I'll text him right now."

"Don't you dare!" I shouted, grabbing the phone from her and running into our bedroom. "I've had enough turmoil today!" I flopped down on my bed and tossed the phone in the air.

"Come on, give it back! You're gonna break it!"

"Promise not to say anything about you-know-what to Charlie?"

"Okay, I promise." I tossed the phone back to her and crawled under the covers. Jackie turned off her bedside lamp and we both lay on our backs. "Good night."

"Good night, Jax."

We lay in silence for about two minutes before Jackie began talking again. "But seriously, Lizzy…do you like Aaron? I mean, _like_ like?"

"What are you, five years old?"

"You _do_ like him!"

"I'm not listening."

"Lizzy and Aaron, sitting in a tree—"

"That's it." I turned on my side and pulled on my iPod headphones. Despite the soothing sounds of Death Cab for Cutie, I didn't sleep very much that night. Was it true? Did I like Aaron?

_Oh my god, I do!_

* * *

Next time: Dancing the Night Away!

P.S.: I love reviews like a fat kid loves cake. Gimme cake!


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